


Little Eden

by Bloody_inspired_by_newtmas



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Drarry, M/M, Slash, Slytherin Harry
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2016-09-26
Updated: 2016-09-25
Packaged: 2018-08-17 08:49:22
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,976
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8137834
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Bloody_inspired_by_newtmas/pseuds/Bloody_inspired_by_newtmas
Summary: Harry Potter defeated Voldemort for good as an infant. His parents are dead. He’s forced to live with his relatives. They kick him out when he is only eleven years old.Severus Snape left Voldemort for good when he killed Lily Evans and was killed by her son. His son is all that remains. He’s forced to live in his shadows. He’s brought from the shadows by an eleven-year-old.Draco Snape doesn’t remember Voldemort. His mother is dead. His father is all that he has. He’s given more than he thought possible by an eleven-year-old.





	

**Author's Note:**

> Forget almost anything you know about Harry Potter. I’m creating entirely different circumstances in the same universe. Things will be very different. Also, I’m American and I know nothing about London, so bear with me. Disclaimer: I own nothing. Okay, enjoy!

The first thing that could be said about that day was that it began as totally unremarkable. The heat, as expected, was stifling and thick, draping the air with unpleasant humidity. Silence, as usual, claimed the house at this early hour, when the birds still slept soundly. The daily routine did not vary from its frustrating monotony—wake up, make breakfast for Draco and himself, wake Draco, eat breakfast, open the window for the owls—yes, multiple owls—, open mail, read through the boring rubbish, and throw it away when it proves its uselessness. Bills, Ministry alerts, and the Daily Prophet were the usual morning mail, although occasionally a package would break the day-in-day-out cycle. However, on that particular morning, as he shuffled through the pointless mail upon which his owls wasted their time, the very last letter struck him. It was not so much the expensive seal place upon it, nor the perfect handwriting in which his name and address were written, nor was it the person from whom it came—he received letters from Dumbledore quite often—but rather the date that was emboldened on the envelope. It was the 31st of July.   
Of course, not everyone in the wizarding world knew the significance of the date—Dumbledore really had tried to keep it from the public—but Severus Snape definitely knew what it meant. That incredibly unremarkable day just before the start of August was Harry Potter’s eleventh birthday. Severus sighed, glancing at his son and smiling, “It seems,” he began, “I have some very important business to attend to today.”  
“What is it?” Draco asked, not bothering to hide his intrigue at the thought of something actually interesting happening around here.   
“I cannot say, but Professor Dumbledore has given me a task and I’m not sure when I will be home. It will most likely be rather late tonight, but I will be ready for our endeavor to Diagon Alley tomorrow for your schoolbooks. I trust you will stay out of trouble in my absence?”  
“Yes, Father,” Draco replied dutifully. He had the day completely to himself today, and he fully intended to make the most of it.   
“Good.” Severus glanced at the enchanted clock on the wall, which loudly exclaimed Draco’s schedule so that he didn’t miss anything, and was surprised to find that it was already nearing noon. The news will have already reached him, Severus thought to himself. “I should be going. I will remind you, Draco, that if I find out about any unsanctioned magic occurring in this house, I will purposely forget to drive you to King’s Cross on September 1st. Do I make myself clear?”  
“Yes, Father. I would never disobey you.”  
“Yes, you would.”  
“Alright, yeah, I would. But I won’t this time. You have my word,” Draco promised. This was not true even in the slightest. Severus knew it, and Draco knew that Severus knew it, but Severus was a good father who did not try to govern his son’s life. He knew that Draco was talented in most areas of magic, even though he was not properly schooled, and he failed to see the point in preventing it. He knew it was dangerous for most underage wizards to perform unsupervised magic, but his son wasn’t like that. Draco knew what he was doing, and he was smart enough to research spells thoroughly before practicing them. Severus was always proud of Draco, and he saw no reason to deprive him of his fun, so he turned a blind eye whenever he left the house. Draco wasn’t stupid enough to unintentionally hurt others, and he certainly wasn’t cruel enough to do it on purpose.   
Assured of his son’s safety, Severus gathered his travel cloak and gave Draco a small smile before heading out the door. He hurried to the nearest apparition spot, not wanting to be under the mocking eyes of oddly dressed Muggles for any extended period of time, and carefully apparated to an empty street near to Privet Drive. He allowed his body to adjust to the odd sensation of apparating—it still bothered him after all these years—and oriented himself. Turning in the direction of the dwelling place of the Boy Who Lived, Severus took in his surrounding as he walked.   
The most striking thing about this particular day was the heat, surrounding him like a cloak, and he began to regret his all-black attire. The sky was clear and light blue, its stubborn cloudlessness doing nothing to ward off the unwanted glare of the sun. As Severus made his way down Privet Drive, he was struck by the uniformity of the houses. He was accustomed to the quirky, unique nature of wizard-family homes, each odd with idiosyncratic characteristics about them. These muggle houses, however, were anything but. They all bore the same basic shape, large and well cared for. Expensive-looking contraptions, which Arthur Weasley had once called ‘automobiles’, sat idly in each driveway. They all looked identical. Trimmed bushes with bright flowers surrounded each house, which all seemed to sneer at him with condescending smirks. Severus noticed the lack of activity. There were no neighbors outside the houses, tending to their gardens or chatting amiably with each other about irrelevant topics. No pets wandered outside, happily exploring their own yards. No children played joyfully with each other. If Severus had not known better, he could reasonably guess that the neighborhood was uninhabited.   
Of course, that was a silly thought. The Boy Who Lived was amongst the rather posh-seeming population here, and Severus would do well to respect that. He shook his head quickly, focusing once more on the task at hand. Ah yes, he thought as he caught sight of a house that appeared identical to the once next to it aside from the little number on the ‘mailbox’, 4 Privet Drive. He smiled despite himself when he noticed one of the shutters on a bedroom window was slightly wonky. It seems the house knows that there’s a wizard under its roof.  
Severus, of course, was aware of the rather unkind treatment of Potter by his aunt, uncle, and cousin. He knew that the boy was shut away in a small cupboard under the stairs. He had been informed of the Boy Who Lived’s diet that was enforced by his aunt, who refused to feed him more than the bare minimum. He was, rather unfortunately, knowledgeable that the Voldemort Vanquisher (as Draco had once called him) did not know that he had vanquished Voldemort, nor even that he was a wizard. That was why he was here at Number 4 Privet Drive. He knew that Mr. Dursley would be rather disinclined to provide the necessary materials for September 1st, and he knew that the despicable man would probably attempt to keep knowledge of Harry’s magic from him. Thus, he was here to ensure that Harry Potter knew that he was a wizard and that he would be at 9¾ on the first of September. Should worse come to worst, he was instructed to allow the Potter boy to accompany Draco and him to Diagon Alley the following day the get their Hogwarts books. He didn’t expect it to be a quick visit, nor an easy one, but he was prepared to argue with the stubborn Muggle family as much as he would need to. It was mandatory that Harry Potter would attend Hogwarts.  
Taking a deep breath as he readied himself for a long, heated argument, Severus lifted his fist and knocked politely upon the Dursleys’ door. A shout came from the other side, and Severus was not surprised. He was also not shocked at the violence with which the door was thrown open, nor did he display any hint of astonishment. His stoic expression did not change as he said, “Good afternoon. I am looking for Harry Potter.”  
Vernon Dursley was far from attractive. He was rotund, lacking a neck, wearing bushy eyebrows with an angry expression permanently stuck on his face. He did not make up for his ugliness with his personality, either. It was difficult to tell whether he was pissed off or happy, and Severus guessed that there was a rather fine line between those emotions for the man. Rude, angry, and selective with pleasantries, Mr. Dursley was an arsehole.   
Severus was normally quite articulate, his vocabulary providing perfect descriptions whilst avoiding vulgar terminology. He never used words like prick, mudblood, bloody, or even arsehole for that matter. However, he could find no better description for the way Mr. Dursley cursed at him and “his lot”, the way the vein in his neck bulged as he shouted, and the way he appeared unapologetic as he uttered his next words, “Never had a use for that boy! Never cared about that boy! Glad I had the sense to kick him out; wonder why I never did it before!”   
That was when Severus was shocked. The Dursleys kicked Harry Potter out? Do they not know how vital it is that the boy remains under their roof? Severus was beyond angry at this point. He had been growing irritated as the Muggle cursed him out and insulted the wizarding community repeatedly. But when the stupid, ignorant git had the nerve to admit that he had kicked out the most prized boy in all of the wizarding community, the attitude of Professor Severus Snape vanished and was replaced by the attitude of Death Eater Severus Snape, practically boiling with rage. “What do you mean you kicked him out?” Severus spat, attempting the most placid response he could muster.   
“Booted him,” Dursley explained. “He got a letter from that freak show you call a school and I will not have him threatening my family with the filth of your lot. I won’t have it! I should have done it years ago when he almost killed my son and—”  
“Have you ever thought,” Severus began, red clouding his vision, “that perhaps your precious son deserved it?”  
Mr. Dursley jumped, seemingly attempting to attack Severus. Had it not been for the rage that resided inside him, Severus would have been amused. “Petrificus Totalus,” Snape muttered as he raised his wand. Mr. Dursley’s arms, poised in position to punch Severus, snapped to his sides as he fell face-first to the floor. Severus smiled in satisfaction before raising his wand again and magically dragging Mr. Dursley in an undignified manner into the house. He heard a shriek as he slammed the front door shut and glanced up to see Mrs. Dursley and the disgustingly pudgy child staring horrified at the unmoving body of Vernon Dursley. Draco would have rolled his eyes at the looks of terror on their faces, and he would have told them that the man was simply immobilized and not dead, but Severus had no interest in that. He wanted to know what they had done with Potter, where the boy was, and how he could further inconvenience their lives. And if Petunia and Dudley thought that Vernon was dead, well, that was hardly his fault.   
“Where,” he spat, allowing venom to seep into his words, “is Harry Potter?”  
Mrs. Dursley appeared speechless, gaping fearfully at Severus and stumbling over her words, “I-I…”   
“I will ask you again, and if you do not answer immediately and honestly, I will curse your son until he wishes I hit him with Avada Kedavra. Where is Harry Potter?” Severus wasn’t sure if she knew what Avada Kedavra was, but it seemed to have the desired affect.   
“H-he’s gone. Vernon kicked him out. Gone, I don’t know where. Please, what have you done to my husband?”  
“I won’t tell you until you tell me exactly where Harry is.”  
“I don’t know! One moment, he was here and Vernon was shouting at him, saying that he needed to leave the house. The next, he had already packed his trunk and was running away from the house. I don’t know where he went. I’m sure you can find him with that freakish magic you have. Now, tell me what you’ve done to my husband!”  
Severus decided it would be faster and more efficient to believe her. Of course, he couldn’t find Harry with magic, which is why he would need time. He needn’t waste time hexing the family into next Tuesday, though he really did want to. “Relashio,” he muttered and Vernon Dursley came free, jumping up indignantly and attempting to attack Severus again. All he had to do this time was raise his wand in threat before Mr. Dursley backed down.   
Without bothering to say more, Severus stalked out of the Dursley house, muttering a quick hex that would cause the next Dursley out of the house to have the incredible urge to use the toilet. It was petty, Severus knew, but it was the first legal hex that came to his head and he didn’t have much time to actually think.   
Now, Severus thought, focusing all of his attention on the task at hand, where would Potter go?   
From what Dumbledore had told him, Potter was brave for a kid his age. He didn’t back down from a challenge, nor did he feel any weak affection for the muggle family by whom he was raised. Because he didn’t exactly know the full truth about himself or his scar, he wasn’t influenced by any idea of invincibility or specialty. Severus wouldn’t go as far as to say the boy was humble, but he didn’t seem nearly as arrogant as his father was.   
Severus scowled at the thought of James Potter, the golden boy of his year. Saint Potter, Severus sneered silently.   
Where would a courageous, ignorant, and slightly supercilious eleven-year-old go? Severus had a bit of experience in that department, minus the ignorant bit, having a brave-but-conceited eleven-year-old himself. However, he hardly thought Harry would be anything like Draco. For one, Severus would never be negligent of his son the way the Dursleys were to Harry, and he imagined that the Potter boy’s self-esteem was most likely not stellar. The arrogant ones are always the most damaged, Snape thought to himself.   
Another factor was that, unlike Draco, Harry did not know he was a wizard. He most likely thought that his Hogwarts acceptance letter was some sort of joke, scamming parents into believing that their child was accepted into some special school for which they’d have to pay a large sum of tuition money. Or at least, that’s what Dumbledore told Severus that Harry would think. Snape doubted that Harry would go to any wizarding establishment—he didn’t think Harry even knew those existed—so the most likely place Harry would go would be muggle London. Good, Severus thought bitterly, glad I’ve narrowed it down to 1,570 square kilometers of unfamiliar territory.   
Severus was aware that he should probably inform Dumbledore, as the wizard had asked him to update him with any developments, but he felt responsible to find Harry himself. He knew Dumbledore would look himself if he told him, and he felt obligated to make sure Potter was alright, given that it was his duty. Besides, Severus mused, Dumbledore probably already knows. Keeping secrets from the headmaster was like trying to hide a hippogriff in your backyard.   
Deciding that he was slightly off topic, Severus returned his focus to the task at hand. Where would a scared, friendless Potter go when his only family kicks him out of the house?   
Severus figured he could rule out anyone’s house considering the fact that Potter was friendless and too proud to resort to strangers. He was also penniless as far as muggle money goes, so that removes any sort of hotel or lodging place. All that remained were the streets and residencies open to the public.   
This is going to be a long day, Severus sighed. 

Professor Snape’s extensive knowledge of the outside world included many things. Obviously, Severus was quite familiar with potions and potion ingredients, dedicating his life to the study of magical plants, animals, and their effects. He also had acquired a deep understanding and appreciation for the Dark Arts, though he wasn’t too keen on practicing them anymore. Severus also knew many important people; witches and wizards in the Ministry, certain muggle powers such as the Prime Minister, Professor Dumbledore and the other distinguished teachers at Hogwarts, and once upon a time he was even familiar—though not friendly—with the Dark Lord. Severus prided himself in knowing a great deal about magic and exploring all areas of it extensively. He was an intelligent, observant, reserved, and slightly detached individual. His knowledge meant more to him than anything aside from Draco. However, with every book Severus had ever read, every subject he had learned, every piece of material he had taught, Snape’s library of knowledge hardly encompassed the boisterous, narrow, and intimidating streets of muggle London.  
Everywhere Severus turned, hoards of muggles hurried about their muggle business, muttering to themselves, yelling into little boxes at their ears, pushing people aside, and inconsiderately going about their lives. No one seemed particularly surprised by the activity, suggesting that it was normal. It seemed there was not one polite person among them, and Severus shivered as he realized that these were the sorts of people to whom the Boy Who Lived was accustomed. This horrid, cramped, and dirty city was one with which the Voldemort Vanquisher was comfortable. This life was one with which Harry Potter was familiar.   
Alright, Severus thought, if I’m going to find him, I’m going to have to think like an emotionally damaged eleven-year-old boy who thinks he’s a muggle, grew up in muggle London, and just had his whole life swept out from underneath him. Elementary. Severus straightened his shoulders, determined to find the Potter boy, and began his trek.


End file.
